The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1887-01-16

| | tell that my longing to De Tree is not
a simple self-seekingW
mo. do not hurry" said Bowyer,
Think it all over, then Wrlte7to me,
for. | am sorry to say, my holiday here
is oyer; am called back to London,
and must leave early tomorrow"
Here was another cause OF trouble
for the poor priest. He had hoped to
| talk it all over with Bowyer-to look
! impartially at this thing, which. now
that it was put before him badly and
distinctly, seemed very terrible, and
with his friends help to arrive at some
decision, and the assistance must now
I be withdrawn.
Something of his trouble showed itself
| in his face, for Bowyer turned to him
moved him first to make his acQuaint
ance, and said very gently:
You know it must be you, and not |,
who shall decide. When | am gone,
perhaps it will be easier for you to know
YOUR real mind on the subject. But
| do not think any man can either be
happy or truly good who is daily testl-
| fying to things which he but half be-
| lieves. Good-by to you now, and God
| be with you, whatever your decision"
Bowyer held out his hand, which the
other wrung in silence, and then sat
down again, listening to the recedlng
footsteps of his friend as he went
quickly down the precipitous path.
Long sat Martin Schultz, hesltating and
wavering, now leaning to one side, now
to the other, this way and that dlvld-
ing the swift mind" now appalled, al
the thought of the sudden upheaval OF
all his life, now attracted by the vision
of freedom. Thus he fingered, until the
shadows of the bills began to creep fur
ther and further across the fertile PLAIN,
and line of paliid mist outlined the
rivers course. Then in the valley be-
hind him he heard the mOnOtonous
note of the bell of his little church ring
ing for vespers, and rising up, he stood
for moment with eyes fixed on the
spreading landscape; and as he gaZed
familiar words sprang to his lips: The
devil taketh Him up into an exceeding
high mountain, and showeth him all
the kingdoms of the world, and the
glory of them" Then, in tones OF
agony, as, if the evil one we're there, il
actual presence tempting him, he cried,
"Get thee behind me, Satan,' and with
bowed head passed on to his evening
prayer.
PART II.
Nevertheless, about q month later
Mr.. Bowyer received the following let
ter
GRUNENAU, September Is, =. Dear
and Honored Friend: In prayer and
anguish of spirit | have considered
what you so kindly put before me one
month ago, and have determined to &C
cept your offer. l have one thing to
pray of you-that you will let my his
tory remain a secret between you and
me. Unused as l am to the world and
its ways, could not bear the thought
that was being pointed out as the
renegade priest" am breaking with
this old life completely. Henceforth
Martin Schultz is dead, and | shall
bear my mothers name. She and my
father are long departed, and to my
Maker alone, whom | still hope to
serve, am | responsible for this my
deed. But to you, who gave me hope
and courage, l sign myself, for the last
time, yours gratefully.
MARTIN SCHULTZ.
Time went on, and Martin Stein, as
he now called himself, still remained as
Mr.. Bowyer's German master. His ad-
mirable scholarship made him a most
efficient teacher, and his gentleness en-
desred him to all his pupi 5, although
he had scarcely the rong hand neceS-
sary 10 control the unruly spirits OF
healthy English boys.
On the whole, the change had been a |
successful one for him. The LOOK of |
anxious unrest passed from his face,
aud left him calmer and brighter. His !
friendship with Bower was drawn still
closer, although according to Martins
earnest request the subject of his for
mer life was never mOoted between
them. He was certainly happier than
in former days, and Bowyer congfatu-
lated himself on having been the in
srument of this improvement.
Herr Stein, who at first had preferred
TO live almost without outside acquaint-
ance, began at length to lose his shy
ness, and gradually became intimate in
the family of German merchant, a
Mr.. Tienemann.
Mr.. TInemann had a laughter. Nina.
bright, pleasant girl of 20; and, as was
natural, Martin Stein, himself only 80,
brought for the first time into close con-
tact with an attractive girl, fell in love
With her, blamed himself for so doing
he, the priest. the vowed celIbate-then
argued that he had cancelled these
lows, hesitsted, wavered, succumbed :
% an impulse during an unexpected |
ete-s- tete, proposed and was accepted,
md went home in the new flush of bis
oy to tell Bower what had happened.
Then, for the first time, Bowyer re-
erted to his friends pastlife, and said:
OF course you will tell the young lady
nd her parents the story of your life !
Martin Stein turned pale; he had not
for this.
mol he said impetuously. Il can !
OF do 1t. That chapter is closed and
yer, and l will not reopen it. She loves /
lie for myself, and what's it to her that
" the past years OF my life | was
ave and prisoner? l will not tell herl" d,
But, said Bowyer, 'she is Protes-
INT born. She will not look upon it in 2
lie same light as you do. Old friend; .
think it is due to her to let her know" !
mo, can not!" replied be. See! Q
lie very thought of those years is like .
nightmare, and seems to chill my .
ood." And, in truth, be was shiver- c
g, all the bright joyouSness gone from J c
lie face just now so eager. Perhaps, =
hen we have been married little .